“And if you tell him about how I talk to Martina, I will make sure the police show up at your sister’s house too.”

My father let out a long, ragged breath in the dark room.

The sound was like dry leaves scraping against stone.

“She knew Rosa’s family was vulnerable,” I whispered, my chest tightening.

“She targeted them on purpose.”

“Keep playing,” my father said.

His hand gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging into my jacket.

Ramiro selected another file from the middle of July.

This video showed the laundry room in the basement of the main house.

Rosa was folding sheets when Patricia entered.

Patricia held a gold watch in her right hand.

“This was on Emiliano’s nightstand,” Patricia said on the tape.

“I took it.”

Rosa looked up, her face pale in the fluorescent light of the laundry room.

“Why are you showing me this, señora?” Rosa asked.

“Because if you say one word about Martina crying in her room yesterday, I will tell the police you stole it,” Patricia said.

She slid the watch into her pocket.